


White Blood

by Sweetlyvillainous



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergent, Dialogue Heavy, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hypothermia, Identity, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Mentions of non-con, Past Abuse, Rape/Non-con Elements, Storytelling, broken Theon, broken sansa, hate that guy, healing each other, i think thats all the tags, mentions of ramsay bolton being an asshole, slight changes to storyline, smidge moments of fluff, stories, theonsa week day 1, theonsa week day 2, theonsa-freeform, they are hurting and healing, they cry alot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 05:36:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20633945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sweetlyvillainous/pseuds/Sweetlyvillainous
Summary: When Sansa and Theon escape from Ramsay, Sansa falls ill. While she warms up and recovers these two broken individuals find solace in each other as they open about their difficult journeys.





	White Blood

**Author's Note:**

> [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/160721222@N05/48729300228/in/dateposted-public/)   

> 
> Hi! I am super excited to share this with you all. It's my first diving into abused, traumatic characters. Before you get to reading There is mentions of Sansa Non-con moments with Ramsay, her almost noncon scene earlier in the series, and there are mentions of Theon's torture. In this story I have changed a few things I'm sure you'll notice. For one, Sansa doesn't know the truth of what happened to Bran and Rickon until Theon opens up to her. I promise the next one will be happy and fluffy! Thank you so much to Diligentocelot for her beta work on this!!
> 
> Happy Theonsa Week!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own anything associated with George R.R. Martin, David Benioff, or D.B. Weiss. If I did Theon would be alive with Sansa.

A winter chill ran through her body as her dampened dress began to stiffen in places from crossing the river. Sansa knew every moment was precious. They should saddle up and ride far away from here. Placing as much distance between them and Ramsay as they could. All she could do was stare blankly at the man before her. She couldn't grasp the words he was telling her. Theon parting from her now while that vile man was breathing. Hunting. It didn't sit well with her. Not in the slightest.

"Theon…"

"Sansa. They can take you to Castle Black. I'm sure Jon wouldn't welcome me, anyway."

"Then I'll g-go with you. We're not sssafe. Not until that cruel b-bastard is dead." Sansa grasped his boney face in her pale, frozen hands, "Theon look at me."

Theon shivered at the touch but did as he was told. Noticing her constant shaking from head to toe. Her trembling pink lips were turning to a light blue almost purple. Sansa would freeze to death out here if she didn't leave soon. Theon was used to the pain and torture by now. Although he was freezing, he could withstand it. Sansa on the otherhand, looked ill with each passing second. He ran his hands along her arms attempting to warm her up. A frivolous endeavor but it was all he could do. The intensity in her steel blues didn't evade him. She would not drop it, he knew that. Damn these Starks with their stubbornness and honor. Her jaw tightened as she tried to prevent her teeth from chattering.

"C-come with me. J.. Jon w-won't touch you when h-he learns you ssaaved me. I w-won't sleep well…"

"All right. We will find a place and warm you up. You're not well. Then we can talk about it."

Sansa nodded as frost began to fall from her mused up scarlet tresses. Theon pulled her into within his arms rubbing his gloved hands vigorously down her back trying to keep her warm. He turned to the tall blonde woman and the young man next to her. 

"Did you see any place on your way here?"

"We're staying at an inn a few miles back," the beastly woman spoke up.

"An Inn would do no good. We'd be found in hours."

"Sir, I think I saw a cottage on the way here. I'm not sure if it's occupied."

"We can try. She needs warmth." 

The dark-haired young man, a squire Theon assumed pulled a simple black cloak from a bag on his horse. Walking over he silently held it out to Theon. Taking the heavy fabric muttering a thanks as Theon wrapped it tightly around Sansa. A white horse with flecks of grey throughout her fur remained from Ramsay's men. Theon pulled Sansa to it helping her into the saddle, to his surprise the saddle was rather large they could both fit. Although It would be a tight squeeze that's not important right now. Sansa was. Theon gave the heavy cloak a quick overview checking to see that she was bundled warmly. He gripped the brown leather straps of the harness. They were cold to the touch as he wrapped his worn gloved hands around them. Sansa leaned against his chest her breathing ragged and shallow. He could feel her shivering against him. 

"Hang on Sansa. Just hang on. You're free." He whispered against her ear, his warm breath tickled against her snow kissed skin. She nodded to his command. Theon looked over to the warrior woman and her squire both of them wearing an expression of concern for Lady Stark, "I'll follow your lead."

They both nodded, pulling the reins on their horses. Both horses reared back, springing into a gallop through the winter woods. Theon slid his boots into the stirrups, tugged on straps of the harness once more and whipping it against the horse signaling they're ready to go. The white-haired mare sprung into a similar gallop following the others.

The ride felt like hours to Theon. He silently prayed they would find this place soon. Since being Ramsay's little toy he has seen no action in a long time. Today's events were wearing him down. With, the forest barren in winter weather there was no lush green leaves to gaze upon. Only dead branches giving the forest an eerie feeling. He could feel the chilly winds whip against him. With that and only the sounds of hooves galloping on the cold earth floor, Theon would feel himself dozing off. Until, an ice cold chill slammed against his face awakening him. The jolt would startle Sansa awake. He would soothe reassurances into her ear. Sansa's constant shivering would keep him focused a little longer than the cycle would repeat. 

Suddenly, Brienne and Podrick, as he learned while riding came to a stop in front of a small cottage home. It didn't look like much from the outside. Theon could make out the cottage had two floors, but that was all. With the sky turning as dark as the stormy seas, what options did they have? The horse slowed its pace as it came to a halt. Brienne and Podrick were already off their horses tying them to worn down fence. The northern cottage didn't look like much. It was made of sturdy wood and it wasn't falling apart from what he could tell. What worried him was the firelight dancing in shadows along the window. Still what choice did they have? Sansa was silent against his chest. Her shivers still constant but the slight warmth calmed them, her breaths remained shallow. He could tell at some point she had fallen into a light sleep. Theon nudged her gingerly careful not to frighten her. 

When Sansa fell asleep before Ramsay made it to her chambers he would wake her. Sometimes he would blow that blasted horn he used on Theon. Sometimes he would grab her, shake her furiously. Ramsay's favorite was when he would sneer down on her, clutching his hand into a fist and striking her awake. At first Sansa would cry out at each strike until she learned her cries he enjoyed. Then she would pull in her bottom lip, sinking her teeth down. Swallowing each cry, each scream as he struck her. Sansa's sapphire eyes would fill up with tears until Ramsay flipped her over on the featherbed. She would let them fall on her pillow as he took her from behind. Theon knew this for most nights Ramsay forced to stand there and watch. Some twisted mockery to show him what he's missing.

"Sansa?" Theon asked his voice soft and tender, "Sansa wake up." Gently he ran his hand along her arm continuously, "Sansa."

Sansa began to stir turning towards Theon, looking up at her. She looked sickly. Her face paler than normal, her lips were still a faded blue.

"Theon?" She murmured in a shaky voice, "I'm ssso cccold."

"I know. We've found a place just hang on. I need you to hold on to the horse okay?"

She nodded and Theon slipped off the horse, leading it to the fence. Podrick walked up to him taking the horse and securing it by the other two horses. 

"There's candlelight. Someone's in there. Are you sure it's safe? If he finds us.."

"He won't. Carry her in your arms and shield her face. As soon as she is warmed we will leave." Brienne spoke up before turning to make her way up the steps of the cottage. 

Theon walked over to Sansa waiting for him on the horse. He could feel the exhaustion and stiffness in his bones as he approached. His boots softly crunching on branches and snow below him. Stretching out his arm wrapping it around her waist as she leaned towards him sliding off the horse. He slipped an arm under her legs as the other supported her back.

"Hold on to me. You will be warm soon."

Lazily Sansa looped her arms around his neck. Burying her face into his tattered Black shirt. At this moment he was relieved Ramsay allowed him to bathe occasionally since Sansa's arrival. He did two moons ago luckily, his scent wasn't as putrid as it could have been. Theon embraced Sansa tightly as he quickly tugged the second cloak over her bright red, Tully hair. The worn wooden stairs creaked under the weight of his heavy boots as he walked up holding Sansa in his arms. 

Brienne and Podrick should have been waiting for them at the top in front of the doorway. When Theon approached, they were nowhere to be found. Just the front door wide open. He noticed the wood chipping on the door and the frame that harbored it. Whoever lived here Theon could tell they were scraping by. Moving as swift and silently as he could into the home looking and listening for anyone, whispering out at hello that echoed in the quiet home. No voices greeted him only the warmth of the room. Theon wandered about the seemingly abandoned home as floorboards groaned under each footstep. There wasn't much to look at inside. Two rooms beside the one he stood in were on the bottom floor. In the central room, a tattered red carpet laid over most of the aged floorboards. An aged table with four chairs of various sizes stood off to the side. The smell of stew filled the air and his stomach began to rumble. Theon couldn't recall the last time he ate anything real. The scent of beef, onions, and carrots made his mouth water. At the back of the room, he found the home of this delectable scent. Inside the fireplace, hovered a cast iron cauldron with the stew, above a roaring fire alive with red and orange flames. This wasn't the time to think about food though. He still had Sansa in his arms, No owner in the cottage, and Brienne and Podrick we're still nowhere to be seen. 

Theon spotted a door slightly ajar, walking over he pushed against it, peering inside. Again empty except for a featherbed, a basin, and a nightstand. Sighing in relief at the bed he made his way over laying Sansa gently. To his surprise, the bed felt rather soft. Only one small pillow and various blankets were strewn across. Some blankets looked thin and others seemed to be made of a thick fabric. Theon sat her up on the soft bed removing the first cloak and tossing it aside. Sansa's shivers began to worsen. Her body swayed side to side as if she was in a state of sleep. Theon keep her upright. From what he could tell she still had her wits about. That was a good sign. Since his days in Winterfell, Theon had witnessed many men, women, and children succumb to the winter weather. He knew confusion and a slow pulse were signals for a worsened state. Sansa wasn't there yet but if he didn't work quickly, she could be. Theon pulled at the strings of her ice cold cloak laying across her chest tossing it aside. Pulling them up and over her head as the fabric fell to the bed. He then removed his gloves, not wanting to risk touching her bare skin with an icy contact.

"Sansa." He gripped her shoulders with a slight shake her bright blue eyes flashed open.

"Theon? Where are we?" 

"Safe. Sansa listen to me. I have to remove your clothing and warm you or else you'll die. I won't harm you. I swear it."

Wearily she nodded. Theon's hands began to shake as they hovered over the clasps of her dress. Letting out a sigh, shakily he reached for the golden clasp undoing the first then the second. Quickly Theon pulled the stiff, frozen garment down her arms. Sansa twisted her body granting him to the dozen of buttons cascading down her grey underdress. Turning to look at the ground as Theon went to work. He murmured repeatedly _I'm sorry Sansa_. A silent tear ran down her snow kissed skin. It wasn't being nude in front of Theon she feared; it was the markings that lay beneath.

As Theon undid each button noticing her shoulders shaking vigorously. He quickened the pace fearing her state of sickness ascending. He pulled the dampen garment off her delicate shoulders when he heard her sobs. Catching the colorful glow of purple on her shoulders in the dim light. It shined brightly off her porcelain skin, like freshly slain blood on snow. His eyes moved to her other shoulder with identical markings. Then to her back were smaller bruises, some more faded than others. He saw the bright red scratches down her sides. Theon may have been Ramsay's plaything but Sansa. Gods, she was a blank canvas for a morbid artist like him. Pretty, pristine little thing for Ramsay to leave colorful markings all over. Theon felt bile rise to the mere thought of what Lord Bolton had done to her when he wasn't near. Quickly Theon shook himself out of his state when Sansa called his name. He pulled her arms out of the garment tenderly grabbing the thickest blanket first and wrapping it securely around her, repeating the process with the remaining four. Lastly, Theon knelt to the floor removing her boots, pulling her dresses and undergarments off. He laid them all out to dry them. 

Sansa sat on the small featherbed, bundled up tightly, as Theon came back to her wrapping her in an embrace as tightly as he could. He held her as she cried against his shoulder feeling her hot tears against the nape of his neck. Tenderly running his hands along her back in soothing circles, murmuring words like _It's okay, you're safe, he can't hurt you_. Theon would repeat those words over and over like a prayer for them. Together they formed their own little world of comfort. Of protection. 

Suddenly they heard heavy footsteps outside the room. The sounds doubled and Theon knew it was more than one person. Sansa pulled away from him looking up with puffy eyes. Tears staining her face, nostrils flare and cheeks a bright red. Similar to the look she gave so many years ago when Arya would ruined her needlework. Except now where there were angry tears over her sister, were now in place of fear. Fear that Ramsay's men were beyond that door. Theon hoped it was the owner or the companions who disappeared. He had nothing to fight with so he quietly prayed to the drowned gods, old gods, new gods, it didn't matter as long as someone heard his plea.

_Please don't kill us,_ he begged,_ save us and I'll stay. I swear it. _

Sansa watched as Theon stood, Lifting a finger to his thin, dry lips signaling her to remain quiet. She nodded in response noting how exhausted he looked. The dark circles under his eyes, how his shaggy hair clung to his thin face. A wave of guilt fell over her for putting him through this. Sansa's body felt weak still. Because of the warm thick blankets around her bare skin, the shivers were slowing. Sansa winced as she tugged the blankets a little tighter. Her shoulder still ached from the recent beating Ramsay left her the night before. All she wanted was to be free of worry and to rest. Tomorrow they could make their way to Castle Black and Jon. Gods, it's been so long since she had seen him. When they separated, he was an eager young boy ready for the Night's Watch. Now he is Lord Commander. Funny how the bastard of Winterfell has a respected title and yet no other Starks do. Years ago she was a porcelain girl, with silly dreams of being Queen, marrying a prince, believing in false hope like fairy tales. Look where that got her. Bruised, beaten, and broken. She used to be sure of herself and where she was going. Now Sansa sits on a stranger's bed. Lost. Unsure of who she is anymore. Sansa eyed Theon who was by the door his body pressed against it listening to the footsteps. For a moment she thought about him. _Was he as lost as her?_ She hazily recalled the words he spoke before the shivers hit.

_We'll discuss it later,_ it frightened her more than she could say. She didn't want to discuss it later. She wanted him with her until that bastard wasn't breathing. Selfishly she wished he'd stay longer than that. No one would know nor understand the damage done to her. On the outside they could. The inside? Only Theon. They experienced trauma most people viewed in nightmares not reality. He would be the only one to understand her. 

There were voices on the other side of the door and Sansa felt her heartbeat quicken within it's cage. The voices sounded vaguely familiar yet, her eyes filled with fear all the same. Theon quickly grasped the handle pulling the door opened and their stood two figures, The tall blonde woman and the young man with dark hair, Brienne and Podrick.

"How is Lady Sansa?" Brienne asked looking over Theon's shoulder.

"She needs rest. She's still shaking and her body is Ice. The room is warm and I have her wrapped up warmly. You spoke to the person who lives in this home?"

Brienne and Podrick exchanged an odd look before returning to look at Theon.

"Lived is a better word sir," Podrick commented 

"When you were helping Lady Sansa off your horse. We walked to this cottage, and the door was open. Podrick and I looked around. We saw no one inside but a stew over a fire. Finding the home barren we searched outside and found a man lifeless in the snow."

"You believe it to be the owner?" Theon asked

"Yes." Brienne responded, "It's too near to be anyone else."

"Do you think it's safe to stay?"

"I do, sir."

"I'm not a sir. I'm Re-Re.." Theon stopped inhaling and exhaling a deep breath collecting himself. Eyes wide, eyebrows raised as he stared into the flooring. Was he Reek? No. He was Theon now, "Theon. Greyjoy. A sir isn't necessary. Not for the likes of me."

"Forgive me, but you're a male of an important house. I must call you sir." If Brienne was one thing righteous would be it. Theon didn't have the strength to continue this debate. Standing by the doorway the scent of that stew filled him with hunger once more. His stomach grumbled at the thought of eating this dead man's stew. Was it wrong to eat to this man's food? Theon turned looking at Sansa, she was laying now with the blankets wrapped around. Her scarlet tresses splayed across the pillow like fire in the sky.

"You're hungry? We have some food." 

Turning his attention back to Brienne, "If this man is dead could she have that stew? It would help her."

The tall woman in front of him looked reluctant to answer. Stealing food from a man alive or dead was wrong. She looked past him again watching Sansa tremble and then back to him with a soft smile.

"Okay. I'll see what else I can find to keep her warm."

"Thank you. Lady Brienne? Is that correct?"

"Just Brienne is fine."

"I call you Brienne and you call me Theon no sir."

She nodded, closing the door behind her to get what he requested. Theon walked over to the bedside, the wood creaking and wailing as he moved. Sansa looked upon him at his arrival. Her face red and splotchy from the tears as she stifled a sniffled. Her hair wild from snow and wind. The Lady Stark's lips were slightly parted and a shade or two brighter than the pale blue from before. Instantaneously, Theon rubbed his hands together attempting to gather warmth between them. He sat in the wooden chair scratching it along the floor as he moved closer. Out stretching his hand, Sansa raised hers to meet sliding her soft palm into his calloused one. Theon squeezed her hand encompassing it like his was a warmed glove. She was still cold but not as before. 

"Are you all right?" 

Sansa sucked her bottom lip in appearing to gather any strength she could. 

"Yes."

However strong her words were, the glossy look in her ocean blues, shaky breath, as her faded pink lips trembled betraying her words.

"Sansa…," Theon spoke softly. Running circles with his thumb over the back of her hand, "I've suffered greatly from the terrible things I've done. I maybe free, and grateful for it, but I'm not okay."

Tears streamed down her face as she glanced down then back to him. Her eyes shining with wetness, like the sun glistening on clear waters, "No."

They both jumped at the loud thud on the door before it softly opened. Brienne stood in the doorway with two bowls in her hands. Podrick behind her with logs of firewood. 

"May we come in your grace?" Sansa nodded she couldn't bring herself to speak. 

Brienne noted the way Theon's hand was in Sansa's like a man comforting his love. Podrick walked over to the small fireplace in the room laying down the pieces of wood he had. The small fire within grew brighter igniting the room in a soft, warm glow. Brienne sat the two bowls of stew atop the rickety night stand. Steam rising from the bowls showing the food was still hot. Setting down two spoons by the foods before she cleared her throat.

"There was enough for two. Podrick and I ate earlier. We have other foods with us. No need to worry. We'll make our leave. Keep guard. Come find us if you need anything." 

The clang of Brienne's armor echoed within the room as the saviors walked away. Podrick first and as Brienne's hand wrapper around the doorknob, Sansa called out, "Lady Brienne," Brienne turned to look at the worn down young woman, "Thank you. If I'd have known of the plan Lord Baelish had in the pub…"

"Please, Lady Sansa. It's all right. You didn't know. We were but strangers then. I swore to your mother to protect you and I will until my dying breath."

Sansa was struck with grief and despair at the mere mention of her mother. She was never given time to mourn her mother, her father, or Robb the way someone should. All Sansa could do was mutter a simple thank you as Brienne left closing the door behind her. Sansa looked down, Theon never stopped comforting her hand. Glancing up her eyes locked with his. Theon's expression matched her own. A mixture of relief, fear, hope, and something else she couldn't quite place. Perhaps guilt. Flecks of dirt were dusted across his face and his sea-storm blue eyes were glossy. The Lady Stark wasn't sure if he was close to tears or simply tired. She heard of the things he'd done between heading off to the Iron Islands and becoming Ramsey's pet. Now with this broken, battered man before her, Sansa wondered how much was true and how much was false. She wondered of the stories told of herself. According to some people of the North, they deemed Sansa Stark a traitor for staying in King's Landing. Some believed like her brother, Robb and Maester Luwin, the letter she wrote so many years ago wasn't her own words but the Queens. While others believed her to be a traitor of her family. Speculating a possibility for her and Theon to have a similar story.

"Are you hungry?" Theon interrupted her thoughts handing Sansa a bowl. Pulling her hand from his own she stretched her hands up from under the blanket, then tying it around her bare chest tightly.

"My arms will be fine Theon. The room is warm, and the food is too. Shall we?" she spoke taking the bowl from him. 

They ate in a comfortable silence, with only the sound of a cackling fire behind them. Each bite of the tender meat and vegetables was just as savory as the last. Theon couldn't remember the last time he had such a full-flavored meal. A shame it was a dead man's meal but when was life fair? Sansa wanted to have a conversation she just wasn't sure how to go about it. The meal didn't last long either. Both of them starved, devoured the mouth-watering dish rather quickly. Between the food, room, and the blankets Sansa felt warmth spreading through her body again.

"How do you feel?" 

"Better. A little tired but not much" an awkward silence hung in the air as Theon took her bowl away placing them back on the nightstand, "Have my clothes dried yet?"

Theon made his way to the garments on the floor. They were no longer stiff just damp and wet, "Not yet." He picked up all of her clothing and laid them out in front of the fire. That would warm them up quicker. When he returned Sansa had her arms under the cloak again.

"Are you going to leave? Now that I'm better?"

"No. I'll stay until we reach Castle Black. I can't imagine Jon would want to see me after..after everything." 

"I want to know Theon."

"I...You've heard the stories Sansa."

"Yes," scooting closer to the edge of the bed, Sansa reached out cupping his face. Her thumb running along his cheekbone, wiping away smudges of dirt, "Please. I've heard the stories from people. I want to hear it from you. Tell me your story after you left Robb. I'll tell of mine."

Sansa saw the whirl of emotions behind his eyes at the mention of Robb. The hesitation in his features as Theon's mouth opened and closed several times. She knew to Theon, Robb was like a brother. No matter what transpired deep down Robb's death hung heavy on his heart. When Robb was betrayed by the Boltons and Freys, Theon was already being tortured by Ramsay. He remembered grieving and hating himself. Wishing for death for the horrible part he played in Robb Stark's downfall. Not a day has gone by where Theon wished he could take it back. He wished he sent that letter; he wished he told his father to fuck off.

"Theon?" Sansa questioned in a soothing voice, "Would you like me to go first? This will be hard for both of us I imagine. I believe it could be easier for myself than you."

Matching her gaze he didn't have to speak the words. Sansa knew the answer was a resounding yes. Pulling her hand away from his cheek resting in her lap as she took in a deep breath then releasing it. When she opened her mouth to speak her words fell short.

"We don't have to Sansa. Our stories can be our own. We haven't been freed for one moon. Let us rest."

"NO!," she shouted, Theon's eyes grew wide with shock, his eyebrows rising to his hairline, "I'm sorry, Forgive me. I... I can't sleep. I have no dreams. Only nightmares. If we're caught, I want someone to know my true story. The one I lived. Not the whispers from highborns and small folk alike." The hot tears streaming down her ivory face once more, "Every night before him Theon. I haven't slept a night in many moons where I had a good dream. It's all pain."

Theon rose up quickly wrapping her in a tight embrace as her tears soaked the front of his shirt. She threw her arms around him clutching the back of his shirt like he was the only thing holding her together. The blankets shifted down her feminine figure. It didn't bother her in the slightest. It felt good to be in someone's arms who wanted you there. In Theon's arms she couldn't explain it but Sansa felt complete, like the lost part of her was found there inside him. Where they? Could they be two sides of the same coin? Breaking away from the hold Theon sat down as Sansa did the same.

"I'll start," he said.

Theon still looked apprehensive as Sansa adjusted her blanket then reached for his hand. She listened to every word he spoke. He told her how Robb sent him to the Pyke asking for assistance. Robb hoped for Balon Greyjoy's navy and to ally with him in the war. As a reward Robb granted him a crown. However, when he arrived things weren't as they seemed.

"I thought being back on Pyke they would have welcomed me with open arms. Everyone would miss me. Love me. Do you know what I found?" 

Sansa remained silent as he pressed on.

"All of his ships were prepared for war. My father was ready to reap and reave. To betray his word. At first I was angry with him. He knew that doing this would lead to my death," Theon paused for a moment fighting back the sting of wetness in his eyes, "He was doing it anyway. I thought why. Doesn't he care? Lord Stark would never do this to his sons. Why would mine do it to me?", he swallowed hard regaining his composure, "Then he…"

"He what Theon?"

Theon spoke of how his father mocked him. From the clothes on his back, to how weak he had become living in the North. The shame Theon felt when Lord Balon Greyjoy tore the clasp from his cloak that day. He remembered hearing the small golden clasp slam against the back of the fireplace before melting into the fire. As his father called him a whore for the way he dressed. When he mentioned that It was not Robb, but himself who suggested giving Lord Balon a crown all his father did was ridicule him further. How Theon had become soft, and that Robb was no brother. He was the son of the man who killed his true brothers. Nothing more before he snatched the letter from Theon's hands. It was offered to Balon to lead the attack if he so chose. All the old Lord did was laugh.

"Even then, I began to feel lost. I told him my blood wasn't the North. It was salt and iron. Always was. As I spoke the words, it did not feel right. To my father, I was not a Greyjoy. Not even close. Maybe his words were true yet, I was not a Stark either. So who was I? Who am I? Then Yara, my sister came in and I had an opportunity that I now regret fully."

Sansa felt the trembling in his rough palms as Theon told of the shame he felt. From the way his eyebrows furrowed to the light pull of his bottom lip through his teeth, she knew this was the turning point. Where after this everything fell. Tenderly running her fingers repeatedly over his hands letting him it's okay, and that she was there. That she wouldn't judge him, just support and listen. He told her how Yara was supposed to man the fleets. It was an opportunity to find himself and prove to his father he was a Greyjoy, born of salt and iron. 

"Before I gave in Sansa, I want you to know that I tried. I tried my darnedest to get him to join Robb, and I failed. I heard the whispers, I saw the stares of everyone in Pyke. Telling of how I'm no true Greyjoy. I don't belong. My first mate, Dagmer, told me the only way to prove myself was to show my father that I am iron born. I did. I told him I'm the next Lord Greyjoy and I will not be invading small fishing villages. I said I'd invade Torrhen's Square to pull the Garrison away from Winterfell and seize it."

"And it was a success."

"Yes. But there's something else." looking down as his eyes darted back and forth quickly. Tears falling from his cheeks landing on their hands, "I-I wrote Robb. I…" choking on his words, "Sansa I had a letter before I left and seized Winterfell. I could have stopped it all, and I didn't. I wrote my father's plans for him. Like a coward instead of sending it. I burned it in the flames. I caused Robb's downfall. I.. I could've saved him. He could have been alive still but, I was too fucking cowardly to do it. Pride or fear? I don't know anymore."

Sansa pulled him to her. It was her turn to comfort him. Theon leaned into her like she was his salvation. His saving grace. For the first time he truly mourned for the brother he lost. He lacked the strength to mourn when he was in the clutches of Ramsay. Sansa felt the stinging of tears against her face as cried with him. In the Red Keep she was never alone so mourning for Robb and her mother was a frivolous endeavor. Here in the confines of this room, they could grieve together. Time fell away as they held each other.

"Theon, there is no truth to that. The letter may have worked but, if it had failed things would have been worse for both of you. We can stop here if you'd like." She spoke soothingly, like a winter bird's song.

Hanging his head low, Theon shook his shaggy brown locks, "No. Thank you but no. If I don't continue I fear I won't be able to." Sansa cupped his warm cheeks kissing away the tears. He looked back at her in surprise. An encouraging smile played on her lips.

"Then continue when you're ready." 

A shuddered breath escaped his lips before he pressed on, "When I took Winterfell it was easy. I convinced Bran it was the best alternative, and he agreed."

Sansa's stomach turned into knots at the mention of her younger brother. She heard two different stories of what Theon did. The one the Northerners told of him burning her younger kin and the other Ramsay told. I couldn't believe anything that bastard said. When he told her that he heard whispers of Rickon’s whereabouts. He’d find her brother for her and bring him home. For fun Ramsay wanted to force Theon his cockless little servant to kill little Rickon. Since he was a gentleman and a good husband, he’d allow Sansa to watch her brother's final moments. Sansa remembered weeping that night as the thought weighed heavily on her heart. She wanted to believe nothing more than Theon not murdering her brethren. Theon loved little Rickon and Bran and she knew that. Believing they were alive meant trusting Ramsay Bolton and she would rather trust Cersei. Countless times Sansa tried to reason with Theon. To get answers. They were always interrupted. Now that he was being open and honest. Now that there were no interruptions it was only a matter of time. Sansa put on a brave face allowing him to continue his tale.

"After I left Bran. I felt sick. I hated myself. I knew then the mistake I made. My bed was made, and I had to lie in it. Apart of me believed folk of Winterfell would accept it because it was me. They called me Theon Turncloak. Shouted and booed at me. Then Sir Rodrik."

Theon stilled in her arms recalling the horrific event. This moment had plagued his nights for many moons.

"I didn't want to do it. Dagmer told me I have to, to keep my men respecting me. Sir Rodrik defied me and I have to make him pay," running fingers through his dirty, shaggy tresses pulling at the strands, "By the drowned God I didn't fucking want to. My whole body shook as I raised that sword. I had a clean shot but, I looked over in the crowd. I saw Bran next to Maester Luwin, my hands slipped when I saw the horror in Bran's eyes. Yet three strikes later Sir Rodrik was gone. I kicked him into the ground. The Ironborn cheered believing I did it on purpose. I did it so Bran didn't have to look upon it anymore."

Sansa fought with all her might to feign more tears however useless it maybe. Gasping as she covered her mouth shaking her head in disbelief.

"I'm sorry," he choked out, "I'm sorry Sansa." 

She swallowed her fear getting to the question she desperately needed the answer to. 

"What of Bran and Rickon? What of my brothers Theon?"

He cut her a sharp, twisted look of despair, cowardice, and reluctance. For a moment she thought he would run out the door and never to be seen again. Instead, he spoke barely above a whisper, "I don't know."

"The bodies... I heard of the bodies…"

"Not Bran or Rickon. I swear it. They escaped with a Wildling woman named Osha, we had as a prisoner, and Hodor. I never saw them again. I couldn't return to Winterfell empty handed ..."

Sansa gripped his shoulders shaking him out of the horrific memories in his mind, "Theon did you murder children?"

He shut his eyes and shook his head, No.

"I..I couldn't do it. Dagmer did as I flee'd back to Winterfell. All I saw in those boys were Rickon and Bran. I couldn't... the screams…"

"That's enough." her voice was calm though and not stern, "I don't want to know about that." Knowing the internal turmoil he suffered, knowing Bran and Rickon were most likely alive, and that Theon did not harm any children soothed the worry in heart. She knew his story did not end there. It relieved Theon that he didn’t have to recount this memory. Telling Sansa his story was hard enough without recounting the death of innocent children.

“After that things became worse,” she slid her hands down his tattered sleeves, encompassing his hands within in her own.

He mentioned how Yara should have arrived with five hundred men yet showed with twenty. Theon remembered the concern in her dark blue eyes as his older sister begged him to come home. He was too foolhardy back then to listen to her. Yara had only wanted what was best after the death of the “Stark” boys, she feared losing her younger brother. Despite the guilt within his mind he took the road of pride and Yara left back to the Iron Islands. Theon spoke of the growing grief and sleepless nights since the farmers boys, he never went into detail for Sansa's sake. He briefly mentioned asking Dagmer to compensate the Farmer for his despair. It only worsened his state those years ago. For his first mate not only killed the boys but the parents too. He went into how lost he felt and how Maester Luwin advised him.

“I felt alone. Lost. I didn’t know who I was anymore. I betrayed your family and a failure to my own. Maester Luwin came to see me. He told me to join the Night’s Watch after everything. That I wasn’t a ruthless man. I didn’t know myself. How could he? Besides Jon would have killed me and I didn’t deserve redemption. Instead, I welcomed death preparing for a pointless battle. That's when Dagmer betrayed me. Leading to the most horrific years of my life,” pulling away from Sansa’s delicate touch, Theon buried his face in between his hands breaking down. She could hear the defeat in his tone and knew it was her turn to share Sansa wrapped her hands around his wrist lowering his arms.

Neither of them were ready to talk of Ramsay. She knew most of that story. In the beginning, she believed Theon deserved a fate worse than death. Until Ramsay bragged to her all the horrendous things he did to Theon. There were times she felt nauseated by how detailed he could be. His favorites were telling Sansa of how Theon screamed as he took his sharpest blade, sliding it under Theon’s ring finger. The haunting smile when he told of it felt to pull the skin back and watched Theon writhe about in chains. She would never forget the wicked smile nor the evil glint in his wildfire eyes. Or the fear when he retold the story pressing a blade into her finger, pricking it, watching as blood ran down her finger. When Ramsay took her from behind, forcing Theon to watch he would shout back telling him how it felt to use his cock as he thrust into her. Ramsay would strike Sansa on her exposed flesh making her cry out. Asking Theon if he had his cock would he make her scream like that? Or fuck her like this? When Ramsay pulled out of Sansa, she'd turn her head and look in Theon's direction. His parted lips trembled like hers did. His eyes wide as he stared on in horror. Sansa laid there silently sobbing. No longer was she the vibrant girl who loved needlework and had fairytale dreams. She was an empty shell, as broken as she was beautiful.

Shaking her head from nightmarish thoughts, Sansa lifted his flayed fingers to her lips gingerly kissing the scarred, bubbled flesh, “I know what it’s like to feel alone. To feel trapped. People on the outside think you have ways out when you don't."

Sansa tucked the blanket around her chest walking to her clothing by the fireside. She knelt down feeling the soft blue, grey fingers fabric in between her. The heavy cloth was a little damp still but her body was warm and she'd be alright. Sansa grabbed her garments and slipping them on while Theon remained in the chair, staring at the wall until she returned. He heard the swishing of the heavy fabric as she moved closer towards him. 

"Could you…" Sansa motioned to her back. 

Theon stood up to button the back of her gown. Taking in the way her fiery red hair cascaded over her shoulder, the redness in her cheeks, and puffiness around her eyes. Even through all the tears she shed that evening, Theon thought her stunning. Her eyes shined like crystalline waters. Redness glowed against her ivory skin. She turned showing him her back and within seconds the pity returned. Theon absentmindedly touched the array of colorful marks and bruises, he swore he could feel the sting of Ramsay's lashings when he touched them. Each mark appeared more viscous in the fiery glow. Theon slowly buttoned up her dress. For the first time in a long time it wasn't grief or despair. A small anger and compassion began to dwell within for Sansa Stark. He's endured torture no one should experience, and he'd endure a 1000 times if it meant no harm would come to her.

"Thank you." she replied as Theon finished her buttons, "Sit with me?" She motioned to bed. They both sat on the bed together.

"The hour is late Lady Sansa. You can tell your story later if you'd like."

Sansa tucked a stray strand of scarlet hair behind her ear, "No. You told yours. I'll tell mine." 

She entwined her fingers together as Theon clamped his hand over hers. Doing the same as she did before, telling her he's there.

"I too sent a letter to Robb. Before my father's beheading. To save his life. I proclaimed my loyalty to Joffrey Baratheon and the Lannisters. I insisted it was a simple mistake. What young girl wanted her father imprisoned or worse? Cersei told me if I wrote to Robb asking him to come to King's Landing, bend the knee and swear fealty to King Joffrey, he would be spared. But Robb never came."

She recalled the events like it happened yesterday. How she begged and pleaded for father's life. The fear within already beginning when Joffrey sneered down upon her like he's winning a game. Cersei's cold hearted glare that Sansa swore started into the depths of her soul. In that moment she regretted going South. She regretted fawning over a boy like Joffrey. Sansa thought back to how embarrassed she felt groveling and pleading in front of the Court. How hopeful she was when Joffrey promised to save Ned. Oh, how naïve she had been to think he would keep his word. Theon squeezed her hand urging Sansa to continue. 

Her voice filled with rage, "Then he lied.," she spat, "Betraying his own words," she regained composure quickly meeting Theon's gaze, "Do you remember Ice?"

He squinted his eyes peering at her in confusion, "You mean your father's sword? The Stark great sword?" She nodded solemnly, "Aye."

"They executed him with his own sword. I stood there screaming, crying and pleading. My father was an honorable man. The most honorable and he was brandished a traitor. I fainted as the sword fell and the crowd cheered," Then the tears began to fall. From her carefully selected words and the way she kept shifting awkwardly, Theon suspected she's never told her story to anyone. He was right. For Sansa it was like bearing a part of her of her soul to him. A secret identity to whoever she was now

"I hadn't slept in days after court. Joffrey took me down to the traitor's walk way. Forcing me to look upon my father's head. I knew what he wanted. Joffrey wanted to watch me cry. He was sick and twisted. My eyes filled with tears but I refused to let them fall."

Theon's face contoured into a mixture of anger and disgust.

"But, you were his intended."

"Yes. He was a monster and I, a traitor. Father's death was a mercy is what he said. Killing him quickly and then he said... Robb's head was to be next."

Sansa remembered the haunting stare of her lifeless father. It plagued her dreams for many moons. At first, she fell into a state of shock. Not believing what was in front of her own two eyes. It felt like an out-of-body experience. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. She tried to look away. King Joffrey’s knight, Ser Meryn Trant, held her still forcing her to look into the dead eyes of Ned Stark. As she looked upon the once kind, lively face it wasn't sadness that filled her but rage.

"My entire body shook I was furious. For one slight moment my rage consumed me. I almost shoved him off the walkway. I told him Robb would have his head first. Joffrey silenced my threats when he ordered his knight guard to strike me."

"You were a child still. What of Arya? There was no one to help you?"

"Sandor Clegane did. He appears gruesome, but he wasn't so bad. When I was struck by that knight. He offered me a cloth and Arya..."

Sansa explained since Eddard Stark's beheading, Arya was nowhere to be seen. Everyone knew the Stark sisters did not get along well. However, Not a single day passed where she didn't think nor worry for her sister. She told Theon how she was a captive within the Red Keep. For her safety she continued to show false loyalty to the former King. When she heard of every battle Robb won, Sansa would hideaway in her chambers to celebrate or go down to the Gods wood and pray he kept winning. Until the Battle of Oxcross. 

"Joffrey...he..he called me into court to stand before him, " with a shaky voice she pressed on, "He was furious that Robb had won another battle. So he ordered me to be stripped and beaten before the court. It was one of the most humiliating moments of my life," staring with such intensity into the floor Theon believed she could ignite it, "I was the Kings betrothed and there I was being struck bare in front of him. For amusement. It was sickening."

Theon reached up wiping away her tears with the back of his hand. He understood now why she had him sit next to her versus ahead. From the side Sansa looked as if she could break at a moment's notice. Turning to face him she would break down. Looking down and speaking gave her all the strength she needed. He knew she'd face him when ready. Sansa mentioned the imp, Tyrion Lannister and Sandor Clegane had saved her. The ghost of a smile played at her lips.

"It's funny,” her voice was soft and distant, “You hear these stories as a child. These handsome men being princes and knights. That they save the damsel in distress,” then she snapped back to the present, the soft voice now darker, “When in reality the two who appeared as villains were my saviors that day. The handsome one, a monster and I was a fool. Lord Tyrion offered me a way out. Instead I... I pledged my love to Joffrey. He may have saved me that day, but I wasn’t sure if he was a friend or foe." 

“Sansa... there was no way to know. It was survival.”

“Had the attack happened after Princess Myrcella’s departure I would’ve known.”

“Why? What happened?”

Keeping her eyes focused on the wall ahead, Sansa reached out searching for his hand next to her. Willingly he gave it. She gripped his hands tight as if she were holding onto the reins of a horse riding through the North. Theon watched as she pulled in her bottom lip then released it, studying the way her eyebrows arched and furrowed. Noticing the fear within her sapphire eyes. Listening to her breathes as she inhaled then exhaled deeply. Sansa’s voice trembled as she continued on. She went into detail about the riot from the small folk. Joffrey wasn’t known for his kindness, especially towards the small folk. The people of King's Landing saw an opportunity, and they took it. Throwing food, stones, whatever they could get their grimy fingers on. Sansa was forced to stifle a laugh when a man from the crowd through what appeared to be mud at Joffrey. However, the putrid stench in the air made her realize it was something else entirely. She'd have put up with the stench of manure daily so long as it was aimed at Joffrey. Wiping that smug little smirk off his face. Then everything descended into chaos. Sansa squeezed Theon's hand tighter, he returned her touch. An intimate way of saying it's all right. Her tongue swept along her bottom lip, her eyes darted back and forth nervously, recalling the horrendous day.

Within seconds there was shouting and screaming from every which way. The sound of steel singing against steel as blades collide. Women grabbed their children running from the riot. The people of the court who saw off Princess Myrcella ran as fast as they could through the streets of Flea Bottom. Sansa however, was left behind in the chaos. She swore to Theon that Joffrey turned to look at her flashing his signature smirk before running away. Going into detail she called back to how terrified she was to be alone. How she bundled her skirts within her fists and ran through the muddy streets. Pushing her way through crowds of people as her heart thundered beneath her breast. Her eyes stung once more as the visions of what happened came next. Her voice choked in between sobs.

“I ran so fast I felt like my legs would collapse beneath me. I wasn’t sure where I was but, for a moment I was alone. There were bales of straw, I believed I could hide behind them until the riot had passed. Perhaps I could run away. Then I heard voices. Becoming louder as they entered the room," she paused taking a stuttered breath, "I kept quiet. Hoping they'd leave. The footsteps we're closer and I saw their shadows on the wall. Next thing I knew I was pulled from hiding spot."

Sansa hung her head low, sobbing uncontrollably. She turned slowly meeting Theon's gaze full of concern and empathy. This was when she learned that strangers hated her just because her namesake. As the man called her a Highborn bitch when he tried to take her innocence. She had done nothing to this man, never met him. The lowborn would've fucked her and slit her throat, regardless. This was the beginning of how she began to lose faith in humanity, feeling truly alone and broken.

"I begged for them to let me go. He refused tearing my dress and shoving me into ground. This man he.. he pushed himself on me. Shoving my skirts up and.. and.. I was frightened Theon. So frightened."

Theon quickly pulled her into his arms. Sansa melted into the warmth of his chest. Like she was a wounded bird, healing within the cage his embrace. She cried for some time revealing one of her darkest moments. The rhythm of his heartbeat soothed her to sleep. There she stayed until the morning. He didn't want to disturb her slumber. Theon gently laid back onto the featherbed keeping her close in his arms. Sansa nuzzled herself into him. Theon brushed her vibrant hair from Sansa's face. Admiring her the softness in her features as slept peacefully. His heart broke for her. A simple girl with youthful innocence was beaten and ridiculed with no one on her side. He thought of his story and hers and how they were similar. 

_Can broken things such as us be mended?,_ Theon thought as he listened to the crackling fire and Sansa's slow breathing, perhaps we can help find each other again. Exhausted he closed his eyes and fell into a deep sleep. 

Suddenly at the late hour Sansa woke in a state of alarm. Theon was gone from the bed rushing about like mad along the room. Pulling at his hair still wild with sleep. Sansa eyed him curiously with worry. He looked frightened like a scared animal lost in the woods. Were Ramsay's men here? Her palms began to sweat as her heart pounded. She never finished her story.

"Theon?"

He shook his furiously gathering her belongings, "Not Theon. Reek."

She noticed then he was half asleep still. Caught in a nightmare. Sansa rose crossing the threshold to him failing to grab his arm as Theon jumped back.

"You're Theon."

"Not Theon. Reek." He mumbled out.

"Theon wake up. Please."

"REEK I'M REEK!" he shouted twisting his body towards her, Sansa was quickly brought back to the haunting time they just escaped. Standing before her wasn't the relaxed yet broken man she's healing with. No. This was a grown man with the frightened face of a young boy. Sansa quickly grabbed him shaking Theon out of this state. His bloodshot eyes filled to brim with tears.

"Look at me! You are not Reek. Not anymore." He stood frozen staring blankly at her. Grateful he wasn't as strong as his days in Winterfell. Sansa cornered him against the wall taking his face her hands. Her thumbs ran over his dirty face of mud and tears.

"Not Theon." Theon locked eyes with her shaking his head in defiance. It only caused Sansa to grab a stronger hold on him.

"Yes, you are! You are Theon Greyjoy. Last surviving son of Balon Greyjoy. Heir to the Iron Islands. You were born of salt and iron with the North beating in you here," she laid a hand over his heart, "and you are my savior. My hero." 

She didn't know what fueled her to do this. It could have been all the emotions from the evening. Sansa reached out placing the lightest kiss against his lips before wrapping her arms tightly around his waist resting her head against his chest. Her kiss was faint, brief, and sweet like a snowflake falling against your skin and melting into you. Theon stilled for a moment before returning her embrace resting his head atop hers. 

The next day after Brienne and Podrick buried the poor man, all four of them readied the three horses. The Journey to Castle Black was a weeks ride. Over the course of those days she opened up more to Theon of her journey. During the day on horseback she continued telling Theon of her journey. Starting from that horrific day. Before the man defiled her body, a sword struck him through the heart. Sandor Clegane came to her rescue by order of Tyrion Lannister. Sansa told him of the Tyrells and her finally finding kinship with Margaery. The relief she felt at Margaery becoming Joffrey's betrothed. Then the panic when Little finger warned her she was no longer safe. She remembered wanting to hide away in chambers until her last day out of fear. Cersei and Joffrey mocked and ridiculed her at every turn. Theon knew of her wedding to Tyrion. So he only asked two things if he harmed her to which she and if he poisoned Joffrey.

“No. To both. Lord Tyrion swore to me he wouldn’t touch me unless I requested it. He hated Joffrey much as I. I was around him enough to know he was innocent.” She replied as they rode in daylight when the sun kissed her fiery tresses blowing in the wind. Since then she hasn’t spoken a word of her journey. They would ride in silence or talk of days back in Winterfell. When things were wholesome and the only worries were trivial. Theon and Sansa would sleep close to each other. Aside from his Reek episode the first night. They both found being with each other kept the nightmares at bay.

Until the fourth night. 

Theon offered to keep watch. Walking around with a dagger tightly in his grasp as Theon’s boots crunched down on the snowy earth. Since running from Ramsay and Winterfell it was the first time he was alone. He wondered if this would work or would Jon ignore Sansa’s plea to save him. Theon wasn’t sure if he deserved it. Still believing he was lost and unsure of who he is. _A Stark? A Greyjoy? A coward?_ He didn’t know anymore. He knew near Sansa felt like he was healing. Being around her was purifying his soul and cleansing him from deep within. They were developing a bond. Something strong and profound. A part of him loved it and another hated it. He couldn’t be what she wanted. He was broken. Mentally and physically. She deserves a man who could give her an heir and not a man that can’t make love to her. Sansa Stark deserved to have a good life. He would never stay with her unless she asked. Even then he wanted her to fully know the ramifications of her choice. Yes, she kissed him once. He assumed that was an act of desperation to bring him back. They never talked of it. His guess was she never meant it. Theon sighed when a scream erupted in the silence of the night pulling him from his thoughts. Immediately he knew it was Sansa. Clutching the dagger he ran as fast as feet would carry him. It didn’t take him long to arrive at their campsite. Brienne and Podrick were trying to help her. Sansa backed away from them crying begging not be brought back to Ramsay. Theon rushed to her side kneeling down.

“Sansa?” The all familiar tears came back cascading down her northern features. 

“Please. I don’t want to go back. He’ll hurt me. Again and again. Please.”

Theon gently cupped her cheek, “Sansa look at me. No one’s taking you back. You’re safe.” He pulled her into an embrace running his gloved hand through her scarlet tresses, “You’re safe.” 

“She woke screaming. Thinking we were taking her back. Then she called for you. I think you should stay with her.” Brienne spoke up before her and Podrick walked away. Since that night they stayed together.

The night before they would make their arrival to Castle Black, Theon found Sansa sitting alone by the fire watching the flames dance. She tugged at her cloak fighting the winter chill as it swirled around her. Slowly lifting her gaze to him as he approached, the embers of the fire glowed within her icy blues. A captivating dance of fire and ice. He sat next to her. A frown displayed across her features.

“Are you all right?” Theon questioned, “You’ve been quiet today.”

“Do you feel lost sometimes? Like you don’t know who you are?” she asked staring into the fire

“Yes.”

“Theon,” She turned to face him. He could tell she was nervous. About what he couldn’t say. 

“I want to ask you something. If I may be bold,” He nodded awaiting her question,"The things we’ve been through. The things he’s done to us… no one would understand our pain. We’re two broken pieces Theon. Broken identities if you’d like. I believe together, we can heal better than apart. Together we can help each other find ourselves once again. Would you stay with me?"

He felt the implications under her tone _stay with me_. It crushed him to say these words she had to know. He clasped his hand over hers, “Listen to me. You deserve a good life. With a man who can give you children one day. Sansa, I’m broken in more ways than one. You know this. What if you change your mind?”

“Have you listened to my story?”

“I’ve changed. I once had a porcelain girl’s dream. That girl is gone. Her dreams too. I was ivory and now I’m steel. I have been touched in traumatic ways by horrible men. I don’t care about continuing my line. I want someone I can bare my soul too. Someone that understands my pain. With you I don’t feel lost. I feel whole.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Sansa entwined her fingers with his. A smile that could melt the wall.

“Okay.”


End file.
